Not Asking
by race-the-ace
Summary: Cam/Dean *slash* Cam's not asking for anything, which works, because Dean has nothing to give him.


**Not Asking**

_Crossover_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Stargate SG1, Supernatural or any of their characters or plots. I mean no infringement, this is for personal benefit only.  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Supernatural, Stargate SG1  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Cam/Dean  
><strong>Word count:<strong> 1,883  
><strong>Rating: <strong>R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Cam's not asking for anything, which works, because Dean has nothing to give him.  
><strong>Beta:<strong>welfycat

**Author's Notes:  
><strong>- Two more fandoms I should not be writing in. /headdesk

* * *

><p>The Roadhouse is all but empty when Cam steps in. There is a man at the end of the bar that he just vaguely recognizes as a fellow hunter. Cam nods to him and the other hunter nods back. With that over, Cam takes a seat at the opposite end of the bar; there are unwritten rules about these things that Cam does his best to follow.<p>

Ellen comes out of the back and gives him a glance over before pouring Cam a generous shot of bourbon. She sets it down in front of him and lingers in the way that gives Cam permission to start talking.

"Hey, Ellen," he greets tiredly. Cam hasn't had a good sleep in a long time.

"Cam," she acknowledges with a nod. "How've you been? Haven't seen you 'round that much lately."

"Was laid up for a while in New Mexico," Cam answers. "Found a vamp nest up there killing the locals. Took me a while to track them all down."

"You get them all?" Ellen asks. She wipes at the counter with a bar rag and Cam lifts his glass so she can wipe underneath him.

He downs the shot quickly and when he sets it back down Ellen is a few feet away pouring him a beer. She sets the glass down in front of him and Cam smiles his thanks. "Yup. Had to call in a couple other hunters nearby, but we got 'em."

"How're the knees holding up?"

Ellen is the only one in the hunting business, other than Bobby who knows of Cam's past-that he'd been an officer in the United States Air Force, that he'd been in an accident a few years back that almost took his ability to walk, that Cam had survived and recovered only to be outed as gay and quietly asked to leave. Two days after his discharge was final, Cam had had a run in with a Wendigo, was then saved by a hunter, and found a new path in life. He'd been hunting ever since.

"They ache here and there," Cam admits, it's not a weakness. It's proof of life. "Nothing that a couple of aspirin won't help."

"That's good. You been to see Bobby?"

Cam shakes his head and wraps a hand around his glass. "Not yet. I'm headin' up that way next."

"I think Sam and Dean Winchester are with him," Ellen says. "You ever meet them?"

Cam shakes his head again. "Only heard about them."

"I think you'll get along just fabulously with them. You spendin' the night? Your regular room's free."

"That'd be great, Ellen, thanks."

"No problem, hon," she smiles. "You just finish up your beer and head on back. Jo's here so she can give you the key."

"You're an angel, Ellen, really," Cam say, returning her smile.

"Aw, hon, I don't do nothing' you boys wouldn't do for someone else if you could."

* * *

><p>Bobby Singer is the hunter who saved Cam's life a few years ago. He'd become Cam's mentor, so to speak, almost a second father in the short time Cam had known him. Cam made the effort to stay at Bobby's house between hunts and time spent with his parents, always leaning something new from the man.<p>

He'd heard about Sam and Dean, what hunter hadn't, but he'd never met the (in)famous Winchester brothers. He's excited at the prospect to meet them now. They are sons to Bobby, and damn good hunters if the hunting grapevine is to be believed.

Cam pulls his '65 Mustang Flashback into Bobby's scrap yard and drives it up to the house. There's a Chevy Impala parked in Cam's usual spot, so Cam pulls up next to it.

He's gathering his bag from his trunk when he hears, "Nice ride."

Cam looks up to meet the interested gaze of another man. He is probably close to Cam's height, it's hard to tell while he's bent over, reaching for his bag. "Thanks," Cam answers, straightening up. He slings his bag over his shoulder, steps back and shuts the trunk. His eyes meet a pair of hazel eyes and Cam feels a jolt go straight through him. The force of which he hasn't felt in a long time, not since John, not since his academy days.

"Dean," the other man says, holding out his hand.

"Cam," he answers, shaking Dean's hand.

"Mitchell?" Dean asks. They make their way to Bobby's house.

"Guilty as charged."

"Heard you're a hell of a hunter," Dean tells him. "Good to finally meet you."

"Same here," Cam responds. "I was startin' to think you and your brother were just an old wives tale."

Dean laughs as he pulls open Bobby's door, gesturing for Cam to step through. "Nah. We just never stay in one place for too long. We're only here now 'cause Sam was hit on the last hunt and we needed a place to lay low for a while."

"He okay?"

"Yup. Already bitchin' about findin' another hunt."

"Jerk," someone else says, and Cam looks over to find a huge man in the doorway to the living room. He's grinning, but Cam can tell he's pale, with a feverish flush to his cheeks. "I'm Sam," he says with a wave.

"Cam."

"Mitchell?"

Cam raises an eyebrow at him while Dean laughs. "Yeah," he answers.

"Word on the street is you're a pretty good hunter," Sam says.

"'Course he is," a gruff voice interrupts from behind. "He ain't no idjit like the two of you."

Cam grins and drops his bag. He turns and pulls Bobby into a hug, one Bobby returns. "Good to see you, Bobby."

"You, too, kid," Bobby answers. He pulls back, keeping his hands on Cam's shoulders. "You doin' okay? Ellen said you were laid up in New Mexico for a while. You should have called."

"I'm fine," Cam grins. "You and Ellen gossip way too much."

"Wouldn't have to if you'd call once in a while," Bobby grumbles.

Cam ducks his head and feels guilty. Because, yeah, Bobby is right, Cam should call a little bit more. But it's been years since he's had someone as worried about his welfare as his mom, and Cam has a schedule for calling her. He probably should have added Bobby to that schedule long ago. "Sorry, Bobby."

"Damn right you're sorry," Bobby mutters. "Hope you're hungry, made some dinner."

"Starving," Cam says, and it's true. No one cooks like his mom, but Bobby is a close second. "Is there pie?"

* * *

><p>Cam's laying down in the back of an empty truck in Bobby's yard, looking up at the night sky, a place he touched briefly in an F-302. A place he hasn't been in years. He misses it. The sky. Flying. Falling. Cam used to think he'd never be able to breathe anywhere but a cockpit. Now he knows he can choke just about anywhere.<p>

Cam thinks about dreams and Stargate Command and being shot down in Antarctica. About how all he ever wanted to do for the world was save as much of it as he could. He remembers fighting aliens and thinks that fighting demons and monsters and evil spirits is close enough to his dream, if not what he's wanted all along.

"Beer?"

Cam looks over to see Dean holding out a brown bottle towards him and it's easy to accept it, so he does. He scoots over a little and Dean settles in next to him. It should be weird being so close to someone he barely knows, but Bobby's been talking about _them Winchester idjits_ for years now and Cam might have a little bit of hero worship. Besides, he's been at Bobby's for three days, he knows little things about them-about Dean. He knows Dean uses Colgate toothpaste and doesn't like to add salt to his food. He knows Dean has black socks and needs new shoelaces.

"Sometimes I forget why we fight," Dean says softly, breaking the silence. "But then I see the stars and the sunset and I know the world is so much bigger than me, you know? So much more out there then the shit we go through."

Cam takes a long sip of his beer and tries not to think about his mother lecturing him about drinking while lying down. When he swallows it tastes more bitter than usual. "Yeah, man, I know."

And Dean is warm next to him. He radiates body heat, and it's cold, and Cam moves towards him just a little because _fuck _he's been alone for too goddamn long and Dean's been giving him small touches for days now.

"Sam died once," Dean says.

"And so did you."

"And so did I," he agrees. "Kinda sucks. I don't recommend it."

"I'll take that under advisement."

Cam doesn't tell him that he died once, too. Because maybe his heart never stopped, but there had been days when he might as well be as good as dead. Days when walking ten feet seemed like too far to go for too little reason.

"I can't offer you anything," Dean says quietly.

"I'm not askin' for anything."

"If I could, would you ask?"

Cam inhales. "Yeah, yeah I probably would."

Hunting's a way of life, they both know that. It's also a goddamn lonely one. Dean, at least, has Sam. Cam has his parents, and Bobby, when he's put together enough to call them. These days he spends most of his time broken. He thinks Dean probably knows a little bit about that.

"An angel pulled me out of Hell," Dean says.

"From one fire into another," Cam murmurs.

"Pretty much."

"I believe in aliens," Cam says. Partly because he can and partly because he wants to see how Dean reacts.

Dean laughs softly. "Close encounters shouldn't be limited to just werewolves, dude."

Cam wants this, wants whatever this is. Dean's not offering, and Cam's not asking, but you don't have to ask to take, so he leans over and he bends down and kisses Dean. It's soft and hesitant and Cam hasn't done it in freaking years because he doesn't like hook-ups, never has. Dean sort of returns the kiss and Cam worries that he's read it all wrong again. But then there's a hand on the back of his neck and it's warm and reassuring.

Cam breaks the kiss when he can no longer breathe and their foreheads touch as he catches his breath. There's so much he wants to say, to ask, to do. He settles for, "_Dean_."

Dean smiles up at him and traces along Cam's face. "Cameron."

"You taste like flying."

"That must be Bobby's secret pie ingredient," Dean jokes, but his eyes aren't laughing. Cam thinks they might be hopeful.

It's the eyes and the grin and the holes in the socks that make Cam want this so bad. "I'm not asking," Cam repeats in a whisper. What he really means is _I want you_.

Dean meets his eyes and then he nods once. He grabs his abandoned beer and sits up, jumping down from the bed of the truck. He's halfway back to the house when he turns around with an expectant look on his face. Cam grabs his own bottle and follows after him.


End file.
